


Burning Brightly Now

by Vae



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF
Genre: Canon Queer Character, Divorce, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam's not Greta Garbo, and he's never going to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Brightly Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorchasilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorchasilver/gifts).



> Officially this is late. However, I maintain that as sorchasilver bid on 1000 words of fic and I'd written 5000 by the deadline...it's not actually late, and she's getting nearly 14000.
> 
> The people in this story are fictional, based on representations of themselves through performance and interview. All contained within is fiction.

The day that Kris' divorce is finalized, Adam's deep in last minute arrangements for his European tour. He knows that it's Kris' divorce date, of course he knows, because Kris is his friend, probably his best friend, so, Adam knows. He doesn't call, though. His cell's turned on, it's in his pocket, he'll know if Kris calls or whatever.

He's in the middle of a meeting with Steve and Andy about how they're going to make sure that everything gets across state and arrives in the right order to get set up instead of the band turning up before the lighting rig or some shit like that when his phone finally chirrups at him. He's deep enough in concentration that he's not expecting it, and Steve laughs when Adam knocks his elbow on the table as he squirms to get his phone out. Adam flips him off with his non-phone hand, swipes his thumb across the screen, and finds a picture message waiting for him.

A photo of Kris _and_ Katy, holding up the document, both grinning like idiots. It takes a moment to take it in, then Adam laughs, relief loosening the tight worry in his chest that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Trust Kris and Katy to have the most amicable divorce in the history of ever, both of them looking genuinely happy that it's come through. `I love you crazy kids`, he sends back, and goes back to the argument between Steve and Andy, trying to remember some kind of basic geography.

~~~

It turns out that a tour of Europe is even crazier than one that covers most states of the US, even if some of the countries are actually closer together and Adam gets to sleep in hotels some nights. Okay, spend the nights in hotels, he's not really good at actually sleeping when he's on tour (too wired) and the change from buses to beds that don't move throws him out of any kind of sleep pattern he thought he had. It does mean that he gets to talk to people, though. Show done, time with the fans done (on the nights he's got time for it as well as travel), and Adam can curl up in the bunk at the front of the bus and make the most of international dialing.

He stops calling Neil pretty quickly, but he kind of enjoys the way that Brad puts him on speakerphone while he's getting ready for a night out and Adam can hear the sound of music in the background, make-up getting knocked off of the scratched dressing table he remembers way too fucking well, and the cursing when Brad catches his nail polish before it's properly set. Cassidy's different, he's quiet. There's still music, but it's quieter, because the phone's next to Cassidy's ear. Allison's still in the middle of working on her second album, slower than he's been, but it means that sometimes when he calls, she'll play to him, snippets of whatever song's been going through her head that day. It's good stuff and yeah, they'll definitely get that duet done before she's through with recording sessions.

His mom's pretty much the same as ever, checking that he's eating and sleeping. (He lies to her and feels guilty about it afterwards, but his stage costumes are so not forgiving of too many carbs.) His dad doesn't really get how hectic the schedule is and keeps telling Adam about all these amazing places Adam should really check out, usually in places he doesn't get to stop in long enough for any sightseeing.

Kris, though, Kris _gets_ it. Kris just talks to him about anything, what he's had for dinner, what he's done during the day. Normal shit. About music and that weird downtime between finishing an album and leaving the producers to do their thing, and he listens when Adam talks, too. Kris lets Adam talk about Sean and how he doesn't really wish Sean was there because Sean would be bored shitless backstage at Adam's shows and they'd end up fighting instead of fucking but Adam misses him anyway. He talks about the way every hotel room's kind of the same and hotel towels all smell like dryers and sometimes when morning comes he only knows which city or country he's in by the name of the place on the hotel stationary. He talks about trying to work out in hotel gyms when no one else is around and the music he's finding to stick on his iPod when he works out, and Kris suggests new stuff. It's never really the kind of stuff that he can work out to, but he downloads it anyway and a new playlist slowly forms. He's already got one for Kris' music, but this one is music from Kris or music that makes him think of Kris and he likes that. He calls the playlist _Allenation_ and he can listen to it on the bus and be half asleep remembering what it was like when he was doing this _with_ Kris. And all the others, but Kris is...yeah. Kris is different. Kris is Kris.

He doesn't call Sean much. He tries sometimes, but Sean's always about to do a show and Sean doesn't want to hear about the tour or the audiences or the really fucking sweet things the fans have done or whatever's been thrown on stage tonight, and Sean doesn't want to talk about the show he's playing for either because his contract's nearly up and maybe it won't get renewed and Adam doesn't really understand any of that. He'd like to, but Sean doesn't want to explain it to him.

~~~

Landing back at LAX is weird. Finishing a tour is always weird, more than finishing a run of a show, but it's the same feeling. Like everything's gone flat and Adam can't really see or hear or connect. It's like being outside himself, watching himself going through all the right movements. Saying the right things to the band around luggage reclaim and letting Ash get his bags through customs, giving the address to the cab driver, getting home, and home is...empty.

No one else is here. Room service isn't going to bring him food and maids aren't going knock on his bedroom door and wake him up if he sleeps in too late, and Ash isn't going to come fetch him and take him wherever. It's _bliss_. He's got a whole week off.

Adam leaves the bags in the lounge and gets undressed on his way to the bathroom, clothes and shoes left wherever they fall. A long, hot shower washes away the flight and some of the gray fog of jetlag, but he's got no clue what time it is when he finally faceplants into his pillow. His _own_ pillow, that smells right and feels right and that's all he knows, curling up with his hands tucked under his pillow and pretty much passing out.

He finally wakes up in the dark, with vague memories of someone trying to wake him, and a growing feeling of dread as he hauls himself out of bed and pads through to the living room, still naked, and someone's cleared his clothes up, folded into a neat pile next to his boots. Someone's stacked his bags neatly and got his washbag out and into his bathroom. Someone's not there any more and the dread gets heavier when Adam finally finds his phone.

Seven texts and four missed calls.

The texts are from Ash, Tommy, Kris, Neil, his mom, Kris, and Katy.

All of the missed calls are from Sean.

So is the voicemail.

~~~

The _thing_ is. The thing _is_, Adam's not Greta fucking Garbo. Sure, he can do the whole aloof artist "I vant to be alooone" shtick but the truth, the _thing_ is, he's shit at being alone. Not alone like not with a crowd of people, just alone like not _with_ someone. And he doesn't really mind the thing where it gets his heart broken because it's worth it, every time, the love is worth it.

It still fucking hurts every time, though.

The other thing is, Brad's heard it all before and while Cassidy's apparently content enough to sit back and let Adam ramble through his fourth (fifth?) Screaming Orgasm on the basis that it's got milk in and you're meant to drink milk to not get drunk (and completely ignoring the fact that last time it had him puking his guts up before he even got _home_ and spent the next day swearing he was never going to drink again), Brad's never had Cassidy's Zen patience thing going on. "Bitch, are you gonna dance or go the fuck home?" he yells across the table, loud enough that Adam can hear him over the music and the huge fucking void of gaping misery that is his life to come for the next _eternity_.

Adam stops, looks at Brad, looks at Cassidy, places both hands flat on the table and tries to stand up and oh, that is so not right. His _legs_ are drunk. He'd known sitting down was a mistake. All he can do now is give Cassidy a plaintive look and hope he's not done something really stupid like rubbing his eyes and screwing his make-up as well. Zen only goes so far, apparently, because Cassidy's curled up, fetus like, except fetuses probably aren't half-dying of a giggle fit. Even Brad's only smirking. "I hate you all," Adam says miserably, and stops trying to stand up.

"Aww, princess," Brad croons, and tries to get under Adam's arm. Which Adam's not really resisting, but then Brad's trying to use that to help Adam stand up and that one really _is_ fucking hysterical because Brad still only comes up to halfway up Adam's chest, and if Adam actually leaned on the skinny little bitch they'd both fall over. Cassidy manages to stop laughing at them long enough to get himself under Adam's other arm and for a moment it's nice, it's them together again. Adam's surrounded by people he loves and who love him and it's warm and it's just _nice_. It's mellow, despite the relentless pounding bass that he can feel more than interpret through the assault on his ear drums.

"I don't hate you all the time," Adam concludes, and leans on Cassidy more than Brad. Cassidy's taller than Brad, but not as tall as Adam. Apparently no one in the whole fucking club is as tall as Adam even with some of the platform shoes on display. When they're all three more or less upright, they head for the door, and after a few steps Adam remembers how this balance thing is meant to work and turns around, headed back towards the dancefloor.

Brad makes a little crowing, happy sound, and skips off ahead, but Cassidy catches Adam by the hand, and Adam's not got enough balance back to pull against that. "What?"

"Cinderella's going home before pumpkin time," Cassidy tells him, and for a moment Adam doesn't get the reference because it's way past midnight, the night's barely getting started at midnight, then he gets a reminding glimpse of the silver glittery boots he's wearing. They're new, and...and he was with Sean when he bought them and he'd taken a photo on his iPhone and sent it to pretty much everyone in his contacts list. Sean had hung over his shoulder, watching the replies come in and asked about Kris and...shit, he hasn't seen Kris in ages, he should see Kris, he should _call_ Kris, fumbling to get his phone out right now to do that because if it's been that long there's no point waiting any longer.

Kris had _got_ the boots thing.

WeHo isn't a cold place, and the club's not cold, either, so the thing that hits Adam when they get outside isn't the temperature. It's the humidity, like walking into a sauna (where everyone, thankfully, has got their clothes _on_). Well, the humidity and the flashes of the cameras but he almost doesn't notice those by now, leaning on Cassidy and trying to get his phone out of his pocket at the same time. Cassidy somehow pours him into the back of a cab, climbs in after, and gives the driver Adam's address, all before Adam's even succeeded in getting the phone out. It's _quiet_ after the club, everything's so quiet, his ears are ringing with how quiet it is and... "Cass?"

Cassidy sighs, confiscates Adam's phone, and props him upright. "Look out the window, baby," he advises. "Be home soon."

"He _left_," Adam remembers, blackness welling up again. Blackness and something else and oh, fuck, no, he can taste the bitterness rising at the back of his throat. "Where's Brad?"

"Being Cheeks." Cassidy shifts closer, no regard for seatbelts, and somehow manages to get them positioned so he's got his arm around Adam's shoulders, and Adam can lean his head against Cassidy's shoulder. "He can take care of himself."

"Sean left," Adam repeats plaintively, leans against Cassidy, and manages to make it all the way back, into his own house and even his own bathroom before throwing up.

Cinderella left the ball without Prince Charming and the next morning, Adam's definitely got his Ugly Sister on.

Mixed gender what-the-fuck-ever. He could _rock_ the tiara and glass slippers if he wanted to.

~~~

 

Once he's actually accepted the whole thing, Adam has to admit to himself that it's kind of a relief. Sure, Sean was pretty and kind of cool, but he was always practicing that fucking flute and not even as a euphemism. Not even making his own music, it was always stuff for the show, the same thing over and over. Adam could never work out why Sean did that, playing the same phrases until frustration turned his face bright red and the flute sounded even worse than when Sean started, tone going thin and shrill.

Still, Sean's gone, and so's his flute, and Adam's still got the boots and in a few months he'll probably be able to call Sean if he ever needs a flute player for session work.

He fills his unexpectedly empty week off by spending a long overdue day at a spa with Brad (at Adam's expense), catching up with family, and seeing Kris. It's some kind of miracle that they're both free at the same time, but Kris seems happy enough doing his album promotional interviews on his cellphone from Adam's couch, and Adam gets free previews of the songs (the ones Kris hasn't already played for him) because Kris doesn't go anywhere without at least one guitar. That means a couple of them have moved into Adam's place so that they're there for Kris when Kris wants to play something.

"I kinda hate the whole album right now," Kris confides, nose scrunched up as he bends over the acoustic twelve string, trying to get it back into tune while Adam reminds himself (again) that he's really not meant to have those kinds of thoughts about the patch of skin on the back of Kris' neck between his hairline and the collar of his inevitably plaid shirt. "I mean, I've heard every song every way and a million and one times, you know? And I'm gonna be playing them to death once _A Way With You_ drops and I start the whole tour thing again."

Adam nods and curls up in the opposite corner of his couch, one knee tugged up so he can wrap an arm around his leg and rest his chin on his knee. "So play something else."

Kris gives him a startled look from under ridiculously long lashes, then laughs, shaking his head slightly, fingers sliding over the steel strings to give that weird hissy sound that's not really a note but more than an accident. "Man, I don't know if I remember how to. Wait, there's..."

Fingers start moving over the strings, hesitantly at first, Kris' left hand shifting around the neck to find chord shapes, and then a sequence forms, something that sounds vaguely familiar until Adam finally recognizes it because Kris is managing to pick out a melody over the top again. He laughs, and grins. "Okay, hit me with it."

It's one of his own songs - one of his favorites from his second album, but not one that was commercial enough to ever be a single, and Kris' version is a world away from the electronica mix Adam had decided on. Simple lyrics and a repetitive melody that caught the euphoria of love discovered late and still found true, the kind of love he wanted to tell the world about, too much to keep hidden, but he'd never thought of it like this. Not the way Kris is singing it.

"I found you in summer," Kris sings softly, chords shifting to a minor key that isn't a place Adam's ever thought that song could go, almost wistful. "When you were undercover. Not hiding, just shadowed..."

Kris lifts his head and Adam's heart stops when he sees Kris' eyes, the warmth and the hope there and... fuck. Fuck, _no_, he can't be seeing what he thinks he's seeing, what he wants so desperately to see there, because he's not allowed that. It's not even six months since Kris' divorce was finalized and Kris doesn't even mean what Adam thinks he's seeing, he can't. "Now _that_ is a Kris Allen song," he says lightly, brushing off the mood with a grin and an overly camp impersonation of Kara that has Kris laughing, too. "Seriously, you should do that. Hey, and I should do some of yours next time I do a gig."

"You're gonna have to learn to play first," Kris teases, and that's it, moment passed, back into easy friendship. Adam's not ever risking losing that on the chance of a moment.

~~~

Adam does the interviews and he scores a guest appearance in the new series of Vampire Diaries, which is fucking awesome, and if he can't be on True Blood then being Damon Salvatore's cousin is the next best thing and he gets to talk eyeliner with Ian Somerhalder. (He doesn't really figure that Alexander Skarsgard is the eyeliner type of guy but who cares, right? The dude is _fierce_.) It keeps him busy, and he's learning something new, because it turns out that doing an acting role for TV is totally different to doing chat show appearances, and the marks he's got to hit aren't like the ones on stage marked out in colored tape. It's a whole new world to learn, scaling everything down for the cameras and remembering how to play a character who's not just Adam Fucking Lambert written large.

Filming makes him wired and happy, fired up by the new challenge. He swaps texts with Kris every break he gets, about whatever thing he's just learned about aiming a performance at the right camera as well as the other performers or the gossip Melinda Clarke shares because she's worked with half of Hollywood and "had dinner" with the other half. Adam can't tell Kris much about what he's actually doing, sure, because the contract's got him tied up there, but there's always something to say to Kris and Kris always has something to say back. Mostly about Robin Williams and when ABC is going to revive _Mork and Mindy_ with Adam in that role now he's got TV experience.

Adam suspects Kris is talking to Neil too much.

Neil's got plenty to say as well but Adam kind of wants to leave the door open to maybe work with these guys again in the future (or at least at the same studio or for the same network), so he doesn't pass those on. Or Brad's resume. He _does_ leave Cassidy's contact details with wardrobe.

On his last day of filming, he discovers that he's got a scene with Katy.

He hadn't recognized her name from the call sheet. It doesn't say Katy, it says Katherine, and he never knew her maiden name. He'd never had to, she was always Katy Allen, Kris' wife, and now she's not any more. She's got another name, but she's still little and blonde and sunny and so wholesome it makes his teeth ache just to look at her. She's still _Katy_, and it's almost a relief to see her again and know that she's still just as willing to throw herself into his arms for a hug.

And still as direct as ever. Katy drops herself into his lap while the camera guys are doing something complicated about focus that Adam doesn't even begin to understand, hands him a bottle of water, and waits until he's taken a mouthful before saying brightly, "So are you and Kris fucking yet?"

Adam promptly sprays the water over both of them. Katy laughs, then purses her lips at him, nodding. "Okay, so that's a no. Or is it an oh-god-yes-we're-having-amazing-sex-that-I just-don't-talk-about and before you answer that one, Lambert, remember who you're talking to and that I _know_ you."

That's true enough that there's no way that Katy's going to buy that he's shy of talking about sex. Even with her ex-husband. "He's _straight_," Adam blurts out, belatedly realizing that he should probably have said something about Kris being his friend instead of something that comes out sounding like I-would-totally-hit-that-in-a-New-York-second-otherwise.

Katy stares at him for a moment, then nods and slides off Adam's lap. "He's not, you know," she says conversationally, then actually pats his hair before skipping off and leaving Adam gaping. And dripping. And in trouble with wardrobe, hair and make-up.

~~~

`So I'm working with your ex.`

The reply comes almost immediately, fast enough that Adam suspects it of smugness. `I know`

Oh, shit, this really isn't the kind of thing he wants to talk about in text. `Movie nite 2nite?`

`let me know when ur done on set`

~~~

Katy's done before Adam is, and that shouldn't bother him, but he knows he's not giving the last scene as much as focus as he would if he hadn't been wondering about what she said. About how he's going to bring it up with Kris tonight, because he's got to, and it's a struggle to get through the last take to any kind of level that he's satisfied with, never mind the director. Hugs and exchange of phone numbers and twitter names all round, then Adam escapes into the peace of the back of a cab. Thanks to Becky and Michelle, he's completely make-up free, and there's not even any product on his hair. Maybe a touch of wax, but it's close to nothing.

`Still awake?`

`on ur couch wit beer n pizza`

Of course he is. Kris has got a key and all the security codes he needs and fuck, pizza. Dairy and carbs and fat and maybe Adam can get away with it just for tonight because he's just finishing a job and he's pretty convinced that his stomach's trying to digest his backbone. Right now, he could almost kiss Kris for just being there so he's not going home to an empty house, which doesn't make any sense. He's got friends, he could call any of them, and they'd... okay, it's a Thursday night so Brad's probably in a club already but Cassidy would definitely meet him for food some place, or Scarlett would swoop in and steal him over to hers for pot and Thai take-out.

He pays off the taxi by the gates, tugs his hat lower over his eyes, and ducks inside as quickly as possible. And fuck, it's good to see Kris on his couch, already starting on the pizza, beer open on the coffee table. Another level of tension just drops away at the sight of Kris, and Adam leans over to steal a slice of pizza with a blissful sigh. "For the record, you can totally do this any time at all."

Kris drops his head back to grin up at Adam, and there's the thing where his stomach turns somersaults again. It's probably just hunger, and Adam bites into the pizza, lifting one hand to try and break the strings of melted cheese that don't want to let go of the rest of the slice and oh, shit, that's good enough that the sound he's making is practically pornographic. Enough to make Kris blush, anyway, and at least he can still manage _that_.

Adam grins back, and pads through to the kitchen, taking his slice of pizza with him. "So how did Katy get that?" he calls back, finding a glass first and then looking for... thank God, the merlot's still on the counter and there's a glass left in there.

"She's dating the guy that plays Elena's brother?" Kris replies from closer than Adam expects, and he turns to find Kris has followed him into the kitchen. "Steve something."

Adam takes a moment to look very carefully at Kris to make sure he's really as okay with that as he sounds, and pours the last of the wine into his glass one handed. "She, uh..." Wait. There's something... Kris looks _too_ innocent. Even for Kris. Enough that it raises Adam's suspicions. "She called you, right?"

Kris cracks up, actually bending down over his knees, which is too cute for words, even though this laugh is at Adam's expense. "Texted, actually, yeah, you should see your _face_, man."

Oh, shit, his face. No make-up, and his skin's hell because of the stuff that Becky's been using on him all week and this is so not the time to get self-conscious about it, but he is, and knowing that makes him more awkward. "So who's this guy you dated, then?"

He's not jealous. No, really not, like he'd want to be anyone else's first anyway, been there done that and guys who know what they're doing are way easier to be with. And better at sex, and Kris isn't his property but if Kris has dated someone since the divorce he should have told his best friend about it as well as his ex-wife, right?

The silence from Kris is stretching out way too long, and when Adam makes himself look at Kris again, Kris is doing the awkward thing, toes of his right foot turned in towards his left, lower lip caught in his teeth. "Uh, well..."

"Dat_ing?_" Adam tries, and that's... not worse, so not worse, Kris is allowed to date. Kris can date guys if he wants to and Adam will adjust his world view _again_ and remind himself _again_ that Kris is his friend and anyone who makes Kris happy is a good thing.

Color creeps slowly up from the collar of Kris' shirt, working up to stain his neck and throat, meeting the blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head. "There isn't. I'm single, c'mon, Adam, I'd tell you if there was anyone, yeah?"

Okay, right, good, but... "So you had a thing with a guy before Katy?" Not an open marriage, shit, Adam's going to die right there on the _spot_ if Kris had an open marriage and he didn't know and he never got to... killing that thought right there.

Kris lifts his chin defiantly. "I'm bisexual," he says baldly, like a challenge, and it kind of is one.

Except, Kris never did actually say he's straight, not ever, Adam just sort of assumed it, and now he feels kind of like an ass because he knows first-hand what those assumptions are like. "Okay," he says slowly, and takes a large swallow of his wine. "Let's, uh... couch?" Couch, right, and he's going to finish that slice of pizza no matter what huge revelations are going on because he's still starving. "And you can tell me about this guy."

Or not, as it turns out. Kris follows him through to the lounge and the couch readily enough, but his shoulders are hunched and something about his body language is really not right.

"Kris?" Adam says hesitantly, and puts his wine down so he's got a non-greasy hand free for Kris'shoulder, and that's weird on its own. Usually Kris is the one reaching out for him. "You know I'm not mad or anything, right?"

The noise Kris makes at that is nearly a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I know, but... there isn't a guy. Hasn't been a guy. Not yet."

Which means Kris has only been with girls, right? "There hasn't been a guy... but you're bisexual?" Adam repeats, trying to figure that out. "What, like, theoretically?"

"Like actually," Kris insists, and the color's still there in his face. "Just because I haven't done it doesn't mean I'm not."

Theoretically bisexual. Fuck, Adam can't even work out if that's better or worse than the three-beer-queer. "Look, I know you've gotta be going through a lot right now with the divorce and Katy dating and stuff and..."

And that's another almost-laugh. "Man, don't you _get_ it?" Kris asks incredulously. "I thought, if anyone, but, no, it's Adam, he'll get it, you'll understand. I'm not.... not bi-curious or whatever or mixed up or not sure or confused, I'm bi_sexual_. I think girls are hot, I think guys are hot. I like tits and I like _dick_." And he's still blushing like someone lit a fire inside his throat.

"But you're never done anything with a guy," Adam says again, because he's clinging to that idea and it's probably not healthy but he _understands_ that bit.

Kris looks like he can't decide whether to throw the rest of the pizza at Adam or walk out. "So, what, you weren't gay until you had sex?"

Low blow. Really low blow and not the same and Adam doesn't actually believe that Kris is saying it to be cool or interesting or whatever because it's Kris (and it was Katy) and Kris is way too genuine for any of that posturing bullshit. But it's not ... "It's not the same!"

He's lost, he's confused, and he can't - for the first time since they met and Kris didn't freak out at Adam being himself - he really can't interpret Kris' expression or guess what Kris is going to do next until there are guitar-callused hands pressed hard against his face and Kris is kissing him.

Kris. Is kissing. Him.

Kris is _kissing_ him, and although it's pretty obvious that Kris isn't used to kissing a mouth that's bigger than his, there's no hesitation there, no squeamishness. It's just certain and warm and firm and...really fucking good and hot. Lips sliding against lips and body against body because just a kiss is nowhere near enough, Adam needs more of Kris against him, hands finding Kris' shirt, jeans, whatever, to haul him closer, and it's there, the thing he's noticed from Kris' hugs. The way Kris does whatever Kris does wholeheartedly, nothing held back, and the realization goes straight to Adam's cock, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Kris doesn't hesitate at that, either, just makes this sexy little moaning sound and rocks closer against him and whoa. _Whoa_.

Adam lets his head drop back, breaking the kiss because breathing is good when the guy he's been lusting over and fantasizing about for years is suddenly sprawled over him, all warm and willing and inexperienced and _Kris_. Adam blinks a couple of times, and tries to focus in on Kris' face, which is kind of too close to focus on anyway. He doesn't actually really mind that right now.

"So am I bisexual enough for you _now?_" Kris asks, and his voice is all deep and rough, breathless, really sexy and Adam's cock agrees.

"You... I..." Adam gives in, closes his eyes again, and laughs. Not a trace of mockery to it, just warmth and relief and joy.

Kris bites his throat. Adam yelps and twists to press Kris between his body and the back of the couch, one hand running down to rest on Kris' hip. "I just did the vampire thing," he objects, not very forcefully.

Kris bites again, more gently, and then _licks_, and it's not like no one's ever licked Adam's neck before, but not like this. Not this playful. "Just say yes," he suggests.

"Fuck yes," Adam agrees, though he's forgotten what he's saying yes to, and leans in to kiss Kris back.

This time, he's in charge of the kiss. It's a good thing, because it means he gets to cradle Kris' face in his hands and control the pace of it, keep it slow because he's dreamed about this, he's fantasized about this, he's spent embarrassing amounts of time thinking about how he'd do this, theoretically, if it ever became an actual real possibility. About how he can savor it, the taste of Kris, the heat of Kris' mouth, the heavy solidity of Kris' body, the soft sounds Kris makes and the way Kris moves but he never, ever thought it might be like this. Making out on his couch with a theoretically-bisexual recently-divorced Kris Allen.

He draws back from the kiss a lot more slowly than he went into it, a lot more reluctantly, because stopping kissing means starting thinking, and thinking means poisonous thoughts, dark little doubts creeping into his mind. Doubts that Kris evidently doesn't share, from the look on his face, all dazed happiness and dark eyes, and Adam lets himself have a moment of satisfaction that, yeah, that was one hell of a good kiss from both sides. "So, this is, uh..."

"Good?" Kris supplies, and holy fuck, Kris is practically snuggling into Adam like a contented kitten. A contented kitten with a hard-on and ew, brain-bleach needed right there.

Good. Good is nowhere near the right level of description for fan-fucking-tastic, and it just settles the doubts heavier and colder in Adam's belly. "Good," he agrees, not entirely happily, and rolls away. It's possibly the hardest thing he's ever done, but he rolls _away_ from warm, pliant, horny Kris, and sits up, only yelping briefly as tight jeans remind him forcefully that Kris isn't the only horny guy in the room and Adam's body has a lot less doubts than his mind.

"Adam?" Confusion colors Kris' voice. There's a faint slither of denim against leather as Kris moves, legs sliding over the cushions as he sits up as well, and the cushions dip and rise with the shift in weight. Then Kris is sitting next to Adam, legs apart so his right knee is touching Adam's left knee, and Adam's so fucking aware of that simple touch, heat flaring fresh from the innocence of it.

He draws in a breath and controls it, lets it out smoothly, trying to summon thoughts back together from suspicion and uncertainty. "So, this is, what? Long enough from the divorce to experiment?"

Kris flinches. A moment of stillness, and then Kris' knee shifts away from Adam's, not far, just enough to break the contact, and Adam can't make himself move back into it. Not now. Not when he's torn between a twisted satisfaction that the wince means he got it right, and he's just convenient, and mentally kicking himself hard in the ass because he was _kissing Kris_ and he's just fucked it up to the point where it's probably never going to happen again.

Still, bonus point, his jeans aren't as uncomfortable as they were thirty seconds before.

When Kris finally speaks, he doesn't look at Adam, and Adam's not going to admit to himself that he's watching Kris out of the corner of his eye. Kris' voice is dry, and there's a tightness to it that Adam hates more for knowing he caused it. "You're not the only gay guy I know, Adam."

Yeah, but the only gay guy who's invited Kris over tonight. Fuck, even Adam's heart aches, throat tight, stopping him speaking. Given how spectacularly he's screwed up already, not speaking is probably a good thing right now.

Kris waits, presumably to give Adam time to respond, then shakes his head, cushions shifting again as he stands up. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss _you_, not _a_ gay guy. And I thought you were pretty into it, but..."

Why now? Adam wants to ask, wants to know. Why the fuck not years ago, why not as soon as the divorce came through, why not as soon as Kris and Katy had agreed their separation? Instead, what comes out is, "Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"That I wanted to kiss you?" Kris gives him a look like he's grown a second head or something. "I thought kissing you was pretty much the clue there."

Okay, yeah, fair point, but no. Although... it's Kris. And Kris isn't an asshole, which means if Kris kisses someone, he means it. Personally. "I mean the bisexual thing. If Katy hadn't."

Kris looks uncomfortable at that, and Adam's heart sinks to somewhere around the level of underneath the couch. That's as much of a no as he can get without speech, and if Kris really wanted him, Kris would have said something, right? Or intended to say something. "I don't know," Kris says at last. "I mean, God_damn_, Adam, you're not exactly like the starter slopes, you know? It's kinda like going for the black run first off."

Skiing metaphor, he's getting a fucking skiing metaphor from Kris of all people. Does Arkansas even have ski slopes? Maybe it has mountains, Adam doesn't exactly care right now but it still feels ridiculous, and he can still taste Kris on his lips, beer and pizza and music and warmth that contrasts with the heavy, cold knot in his belly. "So you were gonna work up to me?"

He's not being fair. Adam _knows_ he's not being fair, but fuck, his best friend, the guy he's spent years telling himself that he can't think about like that, has just turned his world upside down and he can't work out if he's overjoyed or just fucking terrified. Probably terrified, but he can't even tell if he's terrified of never kissing Kris again, or losing his best friend.

Kris' face shuts down and he moves away, just one step and then one more. Adam would swear on any holy book ever written that he can feel the distance increasing. "One minute I'm not gay enough for you because I haven't done anything and now you're getting pissed because maybe I'd think about other guys and doing stuff with them?"

Put like that, it doesn't make any sense. Especially not as Adam's never made any secret about the way he feels about Kris (most of it, anyway) and he's still dated other guys. More than dated. Shit, none of it makes sense, and Kris can't even say what he'd have done, just "stuff", and stuff probably covers a lot more than Kris thinks he knows. "Uh, hello, bombshell?" Adam offers lamely.

"Right. Right, yeah." Kris is still too far away, and he pushes a hand through his hair (getting too long, Adam notices, must remind Kris to actually _see_ his stylist once in a blue moon). "So... I should go."

Fuck. _No_. Kris shouldn't go, Kris should ignore every stupid fucking word coming out of Adam's mouth and be right back there, back in Adam's lap, that wiry strength pressed back against him and that amazingly lush, soft mouth back against his, but there's no way Adam can make himself say any of that. "If that's what you wanna do."

Kris shakes his head, picks up his shoes and tugs them on, one at a time. Different to the way he usually just sleepily shuffles into them, like an afterthought. "It's not but... I think it's best for tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah," Adam agrees hollowly, finally standing up as well, and takes one step toward Kris. "Kris..."

Kris steps back again, and it's like a rejection, like a full body blow, like walking into a glass fucking wall that stops Adam from getting any closer. "Hello, bombshell?" Kris echoes wryly, and then, _then_ Kris is back next to him, Kris' hand on his face, Kris stretching up to kiss him again, soft and warm and way too brief. "Call me."

It's a repeat of a hundred nights. Cute guy pulls on his shoes, kisses Adam, and says "call me", and leaves. And Adam does, usually, because he's not a total dick, even if it's just to make sure they're on the same page with what's happened and what's not going to happen. But this is... shit, this isn't any of those nights, this is Kris, and every step Kris takes away from him is like something's tearing inside, something severed by the final sounding soft thud of the door closing.

Call me, Kris said.

Adam digs into his pocket, drops back onto the couch, and hits the speeddial for Kris number, praying harder than he can remember praying for anything. Even that Dior jacket he'd fallen for on first sight and... yeah, more than that. A lot more than that.

Someone's listening, because Kris picks up. "I didn't mean, like, right _now_, moron."

There's warmth in Kris' voice, though, enough to make Adam instantly relax. "Okay, so, I'm a dick."

"Yeah, you kind of are." Kris chuckles, warm and low, and the sound curls in Adam's stomach, unfolding like it belongs there. "I'm still not gonna come back in right now."

"But we're okay, right?" Kind of. Somehow. _Please_.

"Yeah, we're okay," Kris agrees softly. "But I'mma call a cab right now, yeah?"

Shit, yeah, he hadn't even thought about how Kris was going to get home, so he really _is_ a dick. "You wanna come back inside and wait?"

There's a pause, and Adam swears he can hear Kris shaking his head before remembering, hello, phone. "No, it's...it's a nice night. Call me _tomorrow_."

"It already is tomorrow." Which means that he's already calling tomorrow and... Okay, he's pathetic. "Later tomorrow, right, got it."

"Later tomorrow," Kris says, laughing. "Okay, I gotta go. Later, man."

"Night, Kris." Adam's got to get off the line so Kris can call that taxi, but it's a few more seconds before he actually ends the call and proves how pathetic he is by padding over to the window to check if he can see Kris from his living room.

He can't. `Let me know when you get home safe!`

Because Hollywood so isn't Little Rock, and Adam's pretty sure that Kris forgets that. At least this time Kris isn't suggesting he could walk home. Like anyone _walks_ in LA. In the few minutes when Adam doesn't get an answer, he's busy worrying that Kris has already been mugged, or abducted, or something else bad he can't think of right now, but he hasn't quite got to the point of getting his boots on again before his iPhone chirps its message alert at him.

`Yes, mom`

Adam grins foolishly at his phone, drops back onto the couch, and decides who to call first, because there's no chance he's going to be able to sleep for hours yet. Emotional rollercoaster as bombshell fallout, hello.

There's one person he's _got_ to call. One person who's definitely still awake and picks up so fast he must have had his phone glued to his hand (not actually unheard of). "Yo, bitch!"

Instant diversion. "Yo to you too, nineties queen." Adam giggles, and stretches out on his back. "Seriously? Yo? Who even _says_ yo?"

"I do," Brad singsongs smugly. "I'm wearing white Levis."

"Oh my _God_. The world's ending." It has to be. _Brad_ is wearing white Levis. "Not 501s?" They're way too baggy for Brad's skinny little ass.

"Better believe it."

Adam passes one hand dramatically over his face. This is way more important than his love life. Brad has totally lost his fashion sense. "Look, I don't know who you are, or what you've done to him, but you better let Brad go right the fuck now, bitch."

Brad snickers down the phone. "Chillax, princess, it's a _partay_. I'm in disguise."

"As what?" There is, can be, no excuse why Brad would be wearing white 501s. There's enough background noise that it probably is a party, anyway.

"The ghost of fashion past." Brad giggles again.

Oh, shit. Adam senses a sinister hand at work. "How many drinks did Scarlett pour down you before you agreed to that?"

"I can think of my own costume ideas!" Brad protests. "I totally can!"

"No, you can't, you ask Cassidy, and Cassidy would _never_ let you out in public in white 501s." Adam's trying very, very hard not to imagine what else Brad's wearing. Probably one of those hideously badly-fitting luminous block color shirts.

Brad's pout is distinctly audible. "I don't care. So why are you calling me away from the baaaaaar, sugarpie? Did La Somerhalder finally put out?"

Right, that. "Never once followed through," Adam says almost automatically, and sighs. "No, it's... look, maybe this isn't the best time."

"Oh, no." Brad's voice sharpens, and the sounds of the party fade. "No, sweetie, you called me after the party really got started, you are _telling_ me why."

Maybe it's not the best idea but, fuck, he's got to tell someone. "Kris," he says simply, and waits for the choking sounds to die down. "He's..."

"You _dirty_ little bitch!" Brad crows. "I want all the gory details. I want them now, and... Wait, Cassidy's here, I'm putting you on speaker."

"No!" Adam protests immediately, sitting up with a jerk like that's going to do anything to stop Brad and fuck, he's got no idea who's there. "Brad, fuck... Cass?"

"Tomorrow," Cassidy's voice says firmly, and then the call cuts out. Adam would be relieved, but whatever Brad invents is going to be way worse than what actually happened. He's midway through dialing when the texts come through. Three of them.

`Evry signle deet`

`I'm home. Go to bed!`

`He'll forget in thirty seconds. See you after the hangover. ONLY CALL IF HE'S IN HOSPITAL.`

Adam's rarely wanted so much to be drunk since he got old enough to do it legally. And he still hasn't told anyone. (That's maybe a blessing in Brad's case.) He scrolls through the contacts, looking for anyone else who might be awake, and decides maybe, just maybe, he'd better try a text first this time.

`still up, glitterbaby?`

The answer comes quickly enough to be truth, not delayed by the waking up groping for his phone that Adam's witnessed too many times now. `jst finishd open mic w long. ok baby boy?`

Oh, thank fuck. `kris just left`

He's still hesitating over whether to say more when the reply arrives. `b thr in 10`

~~~

That's ten minutes Adam uses to at least try and make the place look less like he's only been there long enough to make mess for the last three weeks, but eventually gives up as wasted effort. Tommy's seen worse, after all. Tommy's toured with him. He can deal with the state of Adam's apartment.

There's just something about Tommy. Sure, the guy's got energy, but he's sort of grounded. Steady, despite the way he bounces about, and Adam appreciates steady in the band, and in a friend. The first thing Tommy does when he gets in is drop his bass case by the door, and wrap Adam in a tight hug. It should be ridiculous, because Tommy's like a foot shorter than he is and all kinds of tiny, but it's really not. It's just gorgeous and warm and oddly comforting.

And then Tommy's pulling away, staring into Adam's eyes, and his nose twitches. "Hey, is that pizza?"

Adam laughs, and the tension breaks as he waves a hand towards the closed box still on the low table by the couch. "Help yourself, Kris brought it, and I really don't need the pounds."

Tommy makes a dismissive noise, and a beeline for the pizza, flopping down on the couch and looking up at Adam through his hair. "So you finally figured out that Kris isn't straight, huh?"

"God, am I the only person who didn't know?" Adam groans, drops down next to Tommy, and absently takes another piece of pizza. "Did I miss the Advocate or something?"

"For a queen, your gaydar's shit," Tommy informs him bluntly, and blatantly snuggles against Adam's side. "Tell me."

So Adam tells him, and gets through two more slices of pizza without realizing it, and now he's craving ice cream. "So I'm kind of a dick."

Tommy tucks his legs sideways until he's kneeling on the couch facing Adam, one hand on Adam's face. It's a trick he picked up on tour when Adam was permanently half asleep if he wasn't on stage, and needed that touch to focus him on actually listening to what someone was saying instead of letting it drift right past him. "No, baby, you're kinda not, but you've been talking bullshit tonight. Fuck, Adam, how long have you been wanting that guy?"

Adam sighs, and loops his arm around Tommy's thin shoulders. "Long enough to know I want him to want _me_."

"Oh, baby, you're so screwed." Tommy drops his hand from Adam's face, and cuddles in again. "Look. He knew Katy told you, and he still came here tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah," Adam says cautiously. He hasn't a clue where Tommy's going with this.

Tommy picks up the last piece of pizza, and peels a piece of cold pepperoni off of it, then licks grease from his fingers. "So, he wants you, or he wouldn't have come here. It's not like he doesn't know that you want him."

Well, okay, yeah, that one's kind of obvious. It's turned into almost a joke in interviews over the years, every time one of Adam's relationships ends. He's not been waiting for Kris or anything hopeless like that, but... okay. Maybe. Kinda. Sometimes he's found himself comparing. And then stopped himself immediately because it's not fair on anyone concerned. "That's what I mean. I mean, I'm the easy option here, right? I'm familiar. And safe. And _known_."

"The easy..." Tommy stares at him, then laughs, not entirely flatteringly. "Baby boy, you are _no_ kind of easy option."

The black run, Adam remembers randomly, catching sight of the chipped polish on Tommy's nails. "No," he agrees slowly. "I'm really not."

~~~

Tommy ends up staying the night. It's not like Adam doesn't have the room, and Tommy's got no one expecting him home (which is a hundred kinds of wrong but Adam's given up trying to play matchmaker, mostly because Tommy still insists that he's straight). Plus he kind of doesn't want to wake up alone in the house.

Maybe he should get a cat, or something.

Or some_one_. Someone in particular.

Adam wakes to the sound of music coming from his living room, and stumbles down bleary eyed to find sun streaming through the windows and Tommy with one of Kris' guitars on his knee, slowly picking out a melody. Familiar, nagging at Adam as he heads for coffee, blessed sweet caffeine and soy milk. (Dairy does horrendous things to his voice.) Halfway through the second cup, he's awake enough to realize that he's naked, consider current company, shrug it off, and recognize the song.

"Kris played that one." He takes his coffee back through to the lounge and curls into the corner of the opposite couch, focus not quite good enough to catch every detail of Tommy's expression or the movements of his fingers. "I think he wants to cover it."

Tommy stops, hand flattening against the strings, and he looks up, giving Adam a slow smile through his hair. Still wet from the shower, Adam notices, and makes a mental note to actually put a hairdryer in the guest room. And a straightening iron. "Are you gonna let him?"

There are a lot of things Adam would let Kris do, and music's probably the least of them. "Think I should?"

Phone. He needs to find his phone, Kris said call tomorrow and it's tomorrow now, definitely lots of tomorrow from the amount of sunlight in the room, warm as it slants across his toes. He takes another sip of coffee, and arches an inquiring eyebrow at Tommy.

"I really think you should," Tommy says at last, and puts the guitar down. "You okay?"

Adam takes another cautious sip of coffee, and considers the question carefully. "Yeah. I really think I am."

Tommy grins and throws something at Adam. He fumbles the catch, of course, but manages to keep from dropping his phone in his coffee. "So go get him."

~~~

It's not quite that easy, of course. Maybe it could be, but it's not. The phone call goes fine, and after that, it's almost like nothing ever happened. Something's shifted in their friendship. It's everything it was before, with another layer added. Awareness that there could be more, but there isn't. Not yet. Kris is as shameless as ever in getting handsy with Adam, but then, he does that with everyone, so it's not exactly a thing.

Adam finds himself in a role he really never expected. He didn't plan to be Kris' introduction to the big gay world, but apparently that's what he's turning into. He'll never get Kris away from the plaid shirts, but he's at least got the man into tighter jeans (even if the shirts still hang out and hide most of that inviting little ass). One night, even, into eyeliner and a club with Adam's friends. Kris brings Cale along for... okay, Adam's not really sure why Kris has brought Cale along, because _he's_ meant to be Kris' moral support, dammit, but Kris is more comfortable with someone he knows along as well. As well as Brad and Cassidy, that is, and Scarlett, who promptly abandons them in favor of another group of her friends when they reach the club.

Which leaves Brad whooping and bouncing off towards the dancefloor, Kris and Cale gravitating towards the bar, and Adam shrugging at Cassidy with a grin. Hey, if he can't leave Kris on his own for a few minutes in a club, then Kris has learned _nothing_ from the wisdom of the master. Besides, Kris has got Cale. Right?

He slings an arm around Kris' shoulder for a moment, leaning in close (the music's loud, he's got to get close) to yell drinks orders in Kris' ear and slide a couple of bills into Kris' snug back pocket, then follows Brad towards the already crowded dancefloor, tugging Cassidy along with him. Fuck, he loves this. Almost as much as performing, the times he can just let go and lose himself in the music, let the rhythm take him over and not worry about choreography, just dance and grind and grope and get groped, free and happy and fucking high on it, looking down with a laugh when he finds Brad in front of him, sharp shoulderblades rubbing against his jacket. Adam wraps an arm around Brad, dragging him in closer, and goes with it, grinning down when Brad tilts his head back to say something.

The something's completely inaudible over the music and the voices and the general club-ness of the club, so Adam tilts his head down further, earning himself a kiss and Brad's arm looped up around his neck to keep him there. "I _said_, why haven't you fucked him yet?"

Anyone else would ask if Adam had fucked Kris, or anyone else would not ask at all, but Brad was...well, Brad was Brad, and Brad knew Adam. "I'm the black run!" he yelled back, knowing it didn't make sense to anyone except him and Kris, but loving the brief scowl of frustration on Brad's face.

"Not what I asked, bitch!" Brad pushes fingers into Adam's hair, hot fingers at the back of his neck, and shimmies in a way that nearly makes Adam's eyes cross with nostalgia. "He's hot, he's here, you're here..."

"Because I don't wanna be his big gay experiment." That one's softer, but he must be close enough for Brad to have understood, because Brad pats the back of Adam's neck, and then moves his hand away.

"Just fuck him already, what've you lost?" Brad shrugs, beams at Adam, reaches out to snag Cassidy's hand and turn himself into the filling of a tall guy sandwich.

"His friendship?" Adam rolls his eyes, then leans over to greet Cassidy with a kiss. "Duh."

Brad's hand keeps on moving, down between them, behind Brad's back, finding Adam's cock through the jeans he spent nearly ten minutes wriggling into to get the fit right, and squeezing.

Adam yelps, and loses the rhythm, digging his own fingers into Brad's ribs. "The fuck, asshole?"

"Just checking you didn't turn into a lesbian, princess," Brad says cheerfully as he squirms out from between them. "See you later, loser, I'mma be the starter slopes. I have _no_ problem being Pocket Idol's little gay experiment."

"Brad!" Adam's halfway to following Brad when Cassidy catches his arm, pulling him back. Back into the dance, into the rhythm, into the familiar feel of a friend's body moving against his, with his.

Adam glances at Cassidy, raises an eyebrow, then looks over Cassidy's shoulder, trying to see past him to find out where Brad's gone and if he's anywhere near Kris. Two tiny guys in the middle of a rapidly filling club, not an easy thing to see.

"Let him go." Cassidy's lips are right against Adam's ear, his breath warm, and his hand on Adam's back warmer.

"But..." Fuck. Brad. _Kris_. Brad and Kris.

Cassidy's hand slips down to Adam's ass, tucks him in closer. Close enough that, oh, yeah, definitely nothing more than friends. "You trust him, right?"

"About as far as I could comfortably spit his entire skinny body," Adam retorts. He's ruining his throat, he can feel it every time he shouts to be heard over the music, but then, he doesn't usually come to clubs to talk.

"Not Brad." Cassidy moves, turns, presses himself up against Adam's back, and points him in the direction of the bar. The bar where Kris is standing, apparently flirting with the bartender, and not taking a whole lot of notice of Brad's tried and trusted methods of getting attention. "Kris."

That's not even a question. That can't be a question, of course he trusts Kris, Kris is _Kris_. He's like... like if you cut him open it would say "trustworthy" all the way through and less thoughts about cutting Kris open would be good, too, thanks. Fuck, he needs another drink. Adam lets his head drop back against Cassidy's shoulder, and turns it to look up at him, his hands firmly over Cassidy's where they rest on his hips. "Yeah."

Probably not loud enough to be heard, but it's enough, evidently, because Cassidy nods. "So trust him. You guys went past experiment before you even _met_."

Which is so not a comfortable thing to hear. Not because it isn't true, more because it _is_ true, and Adam had a boyfriend then, and Kris was married, newly married, and... it's still true. Really really true. He kisses Cassidy's cheek, pats his right hand, rings catching against rings in a faint jar through his wrist, and wriggles away. Not fast enough to avoid the swat Cassidy aims at his ass, though, sending him off laughing as he heads towards the bar and Kris.

Kris, who's apparently too busy chatting with Brad and the bartender to even notice Adam's approach. Adam takes enough time to figure out that Cale's down the other end of the bar with a beer and a drag queen, then borrows Cassidy's move and comes up behind Kris, one hand sliding around Kris' waist to pull him comfortably close. Kris doesn't resist at all, which has Adam wondering what kind of monster he's created if Kris is this comfortable with this much contact in a club, but then Kris' head presses back against Adam's shoulder, and he does this _wriggle_, and suddenly Adam's not thinking much at all because _hello_ flirt.

"Adam," Kris says happily, and he still hasn't even looked at Adam, but hey, Adam's good with that. Really good with it when Kris' hand reaches up to the back of his neck and tugs him down for a kiss. Unexpected but... oh, shit, there's no way he's not doing this.

He pushes his hand up under Kris' t-shirt to find hot skin, spreads his fingers wide, and spares just a moment to smirk at Brad's open-mouthed surprise before kissing back, slow and hot and messy and absolutely fucking perfect. "Hey, baby. Ready to get out of here?"

Kris practically melts against Adam. It's unexpected, and it's possibly one of the hottest things Adam's ever felt, the implicit trust in the way Kris just knows Adam's not going to let him fall, along with the shameless press for closer contact. Adam's not even thinking about Brad any more, he's just thinking about ways to get Kris out of the club and home, because like _hell_ is their first time going to be a quick blowjob in a club bathroom. No matter how tempting that is right now.

"_Adam?_" The slightly strangled squawk from Brad is almost as satisfying as the heat of Kris' body against his, but nowhere near as tempting. "Kris?"

Grinning up at Adam, slow and almost sleepy, Kris nods. "Thought you'd never ask."

Adam has to laugh at that, no other response possible. Happiness and relief bubbling up, warm and aching, and it's a line, of course it's a line, but so was his, and he deserves it. Right now, he deserves Kris. "Go dance with Cassidy," Adam tells Brad, not looking away from Kris, then moves away just far enough to tuck Kris under his arm (where he fits fucking perfectly) and steer him towards the door to the outside world.

Outside world and the paps, sad fact of his life but one he's learned to live with. This time, though, with Kris snuggled against him, Adam pauses at the first flash, and looks down at Kris. Not exactly a controlled way for the ex-American Idol to come out to the media, but Kris doesn't seem to care, and he's definitely sober enough to know what he's doing - which is ignoring all of the questions being shouted at them, pause long enough to pose for the cameras, and let Adam tug him towards one of the waiting taxis.

~~~

The journey back to Adam's place feels like it's never taken longer. Sure, they're not touching that much in the back of the cab, because Adam's got enough discretion not to give another taxi driver an exclusive scandal story about Glambert despoiling the wholesome, but Kris's knee is resting against his, occasionally jigging up and down and rubbing denim against PVC. (He'd considered leather but wanted to actually be able to get the fucking things _off_ at the end of the night.) After a few minutes, he can't resist any longer, and reaches through the darkness to rest his hand on Kris' knee, heavy and warm. Mostly heavy, stilling that movement until he can pay the driver and get them both out of the car, through the gates, into his house and that's honestly as long as he can wait before he's kissing Kris again, hands cradling that gorgeous face, fingertips under Kris' ears, feeling the pulse beating there, feeling it speed as the kiss deepens.

He's got to stop eventually. Not to breathe or anything like that, Adam Lambert perfected the art of breathing while kissing pretty fucking fast, but because there's a whole lot more of Kris that needs attention, no matter how tempting that mouth is. Tempting and sweet and warm with the wheat edge of beer and the smear of his own lipgloss, sliding across to bite Kris' earlobe and really fucking loving the shiver it gets him.

"Adam?" Kris asks, voice rough and breathy and beautiful, enough to get Adam to stop and pull back far enough to see his face.

Not to stop touching, because like hell he can manage that right now, but to see Kris' face. He's got one hand splayed wide on Kris' upper back, the other resting on Kris' hip, and he's near enough to feel the heat of Kris' body even in the places they're not touching. "Yeah, baby?"

"Just..." Kris' hands are on him, too, and that's distracting as hell, but Adam's determined. Kris is talking, therefore Adam needs to know what he's saying. "Are you sure?"

Adam laughs at that, incredulous, and feels the stretch of his lips as he smiles, fingers curling to press slightly harder against Kris' back. "I'm really, really sure," he agrees, well aware of the absurdity of even being asked. "Ready for the black run?"

Kris laughs too, and rises to his toes to kiss Adam again. "Really, really ready. Um. I mean..."

"Yeah, I know," Adam says softly. There's ready, and there's _ready_, and they're going to get to both, before anything gets too intense. "C'mon."

He takes Kris' hand, lifts it to bite his fingertips, gentle graze of teeth over callused skin. Kris' gasp is like spark to tinder, and Adam can't resist sucking Kris' index finger into his mouth, watching Kris' face to see his lips go slack and eyes go dark and oh, yeah, that's round one definitely decided.

Bed, though. Bed or couch or bed, bed's best, because once they're there they won't have to move, and if Adam's got any say in it, they're not going to want to move for at least several hours. He keeps hold of Kris' hand, tugs him towards the stairs and his bedroom, and sees the moment that Kris works out where they're going. Color washes up over Kris' face, but he doesn't hesitate, grip on Adam's hand firmer for a moment. "We're really doing this?"

It's not really a question, something in the intonation that gives it away. Wonder and something close to disbelief, but happier, and okay, yeah, they really are, and... "If your cock isn't in my mouth in the next minute, we might not be," Adam suggests, grins as the color in Kris' face deepens, and then laughs in sheer happiness when Kris gets past him and tugs _him_ into the room.

There's a tangle of limbs as they get through the doorway, both together, and Adam can't stop touching Kris. Pulling that sinfully (and he should know, that's why he made Kris buy it) tight t-shirt up over Kris' head to mess his hair and reveal the tight body he's been missing seeing since last time they shared a room, slender and solid and just begging for his hands, his mouth, to get that soft gasp and the flex of Kris' fingers in his hair when Adam finds a nipple and bites, not too gently, tongue working over the hard nub while his hands are busy with the fly of Kris' jeans. Mostly, he needs to keep Kris busy enough not to distract him any more than he's already doing, and that's easy enough, when all Adam wants is to touch and taste and explore, and Kris seems pretty happy to let him. "You are _so_ fucking hot," Adam murmurs, mouth against Kris' stomach, and almost tastes the reactive tightening of muscles against his lips.

He can't get the jeans off, foiled by boots, but like hell he's stopping for those now. Down on his knees, he shuffles Kris back across his room until they meet the bed, and the fall of clothes around him lets him know that Kris is moving the discarded outfits from earlier to get them some space. Sweet, but not really necessary just yet, because Adam's got all the space he needs as long as Kris' ass is on the bed. His fingers push into the loosened waist of Kris' jeans, already riding low on narrow hips, and get denim (and cotton, fuck, who knew there was even room for boxers under those jeans?) out of his way so he can close his hand around Kris' cock.

That's something that deserves a moment of appreciation. Sure, he's _seen_ Kris' cock before (no space for shyness in dressing rooms when they're shared), but never actually touched it deliberately. Never like this, feeling the weight of it hot against his palm, the way it hardens further with a slow, uneven glide of his hand and the way Kris gasps and twists and pushes into his hold. "Adam, fuck..."

"Getting to that, baby," Adam promises softly, and for the first time actually believes it, giddy with the sudden swell of happiness. He's going to. Actually, truly, he's going to fuck Kris. Maybe not right away, and probably not tonight, but he's for certain going to, and Kris wants him to, from the quiet laugh and flush of color in his face.

"Not... yet..." Kris is sneaky, something that's way too easy to forget when he's acting half-innocent, and Kris is pretty determined about getting what he wants. From the way his hands are pushing Adam's t-shirt up, it seems like what Kris wants is Adam out of his clothes, too.

Every moment without his hands on Kris is a moment grudged, but fair's fair, after all, and Adam really fucking wants to feel those hands on his body, Kris' skin against his skin. Adam wriggles out of his jacket and t-shirt, pulls off his boots and for the first time regrets how snugly his pants fit. Maybe not quite the first time, his cock's been expressing discontent at being trapped against the zipper for a while now, but right now, the fit means that he's got to take longer to get them off, turning them inside out as the PVC peels away from his legs and Kris is fucking laughing at him. Okay, so Adam's got to admit that he probably makes for a pretty comical sight, hopping around and writhing to get out of his pants, but there's something even more satisfying about the way that Kris' laughter dies away when Adam finally manages to get to naked.

Which is also the point where Adam works out that while Kris might have seen him naked before, Kris hasn't seen him hard before, and it kind of makes a difference because yeah, he's big. Not like porn star big, but probably big enough to make a first timer hesitate. (So sometimes even a little dick is enough to make a first timer hesitate and Adam's enough to make them scream "oh God get that thing away from me" but that's a story for another time.) "You okay?" he checks, trying to turn down the predatory thing a bit. Which is really not fucking easy when Kris kind of looks like prey and Adam really does want to devour him.

Kris makes a slightly choked noise that Adam eventually recognizes as laughter, and nods, reaching out towards Adam. Jeans rucked around his ankles, and he's _still_ the hottest thing Adam's seen in years. "I will be if you get your ass back over here in the next three seconds or less."

"Language, Kristopher," Adam admonishes primly, but that's pretty much countered by the fact that he can't stop grinning and getting his ass back to Kris, crawling up the bed to kiss Kris again, because it's been too long since he did that, more than a minute, and he needs to refresh the taste of Kris in his mouth before... oh, yeah. Yeah.

He smoothes one hand down over Kris' chest, over those tight abs and down to curl around Kris' cock again, stroking just once for the gasping moan it gets from Kris. There's something deeply intoxicating about how free Kris is with his reactions, how responsive, and every heartbeat has him wanting more. And _more_.

One more kiss, one more grin, one more moment to savor that look in Kris' eyes, and Adam starts working his way down, patterned kisses and bites over Kris' chest and torso, hands firm on Kris' hips because... yeah. The second Kris gets where he's heading, the buck of hips under his hands, and Kris' hands in his hair, tugging. Adam closes his eyes, rests his head against Kris' stomach, and simply enjoys the flashing ache of the pull against his scalp before looking up, heavy-eyed, to find Kris watching him. "You really want me to stop right now?" he asks with a faint, lopsided grin, right thumb rubbing over Kris' hipbone.

"I want..." Fuck, that's beautiful, watching Kris struggle for words, knowing that he's the one who's affecting Kris that strongly. Kris licks his lips, blinks slowly, and shakes his head, even as his voice disagrees with his body. "I want you to... to fuck me."

God, the number of times he's fantasized about hearing Kris say that, or something incredibly close to that. (Usually there's more begging involved in the fantasies.) "We're gonna get to that," he promises, and lets go of Kris' hip with his left hand, reaching up to disentangle Kris' hand from his hair so he can hold it instead, fingers intertwined. "Not tonight, but we're gonna get to that."

Confusion flits through Kris' eyes, even as he squeezes Adam's hand, guitar calluses rough against well moisturized skin. "But... don't you wanna...?"

"Oh, I wanna." Fuck, does he ever wanna. "But the thing you need to know, baby, right now?" Adam dips his head to kiss Kris' stomach, licking the quiver that follows. "Is I really wanna suck you off, so unless you don't want me to..."

"Fuck," Kris whispers somewhere above his head, and that's another jolt of heat straight to Adam's cock, hearing that profanity again from Kris. Kris, who rarely says anything stronger than 'bother' when a guitar string breaks. "Yeah, I...oh, fuck, Adam..."

Yeah is pretty much all Adam needs to hear, bringing Kris' hand to his lips to kiss the knuckles before letting go and curling his hand around Kris' cock. His really fucking gorgeous cock that fits perfectly in Adam's hand and is going to fit even more perfectly in his mouth. Soon. First he's going to _savor_ this. He's waited so fucking long and he's determined that it's not going to be over too fast, kissing the head and flicking his eyes up to see Kris' face when he drags his tongue over it, first taste of Kris filling his mouth, bittersalt precome intense on his tongue.

Kris is propped up on his elbows, shoulders lifted from the bed, eyes dark and wide and fixed on Adam. His face sheens slightly with sweat, bright across forehead and cheekbones, lips slack and so fucking sexy they're almost tempting enough to make Adam stop just so he can kiss them again. Not quite, because he wants this, God, how he wants this, letting his eyes close as he fucking finally takes Kris' cock into his mouth, lips a tight wet seal around the shaft, tongue curled to cradle solid heat as it fills his mouth.

Adam's always loved sucking cock, ever since that first messy time when he'd sat back, jaw aching, and sneezed come, and he's gotten a lot better since then. Sucking Kris' cock, though, that's a whole new level, because Kris is so fucking responsive, Adam's not sure whether he or Kris is more turned on. Sexy little choked moans that sound half like Adam's name that go straight to his dick, rasping breaths that let Adam know exactly when he's found a sensitive spot or the right angle, and tension that quivers through the hips under his hands to let him know when Kris is getting close. As if he couldn't tell by the way Kris is almost chanting his name, rapid repititions under his breath, and there's the begging he's fantasized about. There, shit, it's taking a lot of Adam's control not just to hump against the bed and get off right then and there, it's so fucking hot, but this is about Kris, this is just for Kris, this is... _fuck_ yeah, there.

"AdamAdamAdam_Adam_please_now_..." There's a vibration through the mattress as Kris drops down onto his back, there's a pull on Adam's hair when Kris's fingers slide into it, and then a beautiful, amazing arch of Kris's body as the tension finally releases and Kris shudders into coming, a hot bitter rush that fills Adam's mouth and another moan from Kris that sounds almost surprised and very definitely happy.

Once he's sure Kris can't take any more (the whimpering is a pretty good clue), Adam pulls away, gently, and rests his head on Kris' hip, eyes closed, just breathing him in. This here, this moment, this is his, locked away in his heart. This moment when Kris is lying boneless and happy under him, when he can hear the race of Kris' heartbeat through the pulse under his ear, before any doubt or awkwardness can begin to creep in. Nothing but happiness and acceptance and a hard-on he could use to drive nails if he didn't suck at the whole handyman thing.

Slowly, Kris's fingers begin to comb through Adam's hair, scratching lazily at the base of his skull. Adam makes a soft sound of approval, and turns his head towards that touch, pushing back into Kris' hand. It's about as far away from Kris as he's willing to get right then, head angled so he can look up and see Kris' face. His expression is about as blissful as the sounds suggest, and Adam can feel his own lips lifting into a matching smile. "You're fantastic," he says softly, and breaks eye contact long enough to kiss Kris' thigh, half-surprised but really not upset at the faint shaking that means Kris is laughing.

"Quit stealing my lines," Kris complains half-heartedly, and tugs at Adam's hair. Just enough to ache and make Adam's cock _really_ happy, but Adam figures Kris doesn't exactly mean for that to happen, and takes it as a signal to slide back up Kris' body instead, slipping an arm under his neck to gather him in closer.

There's something really fucking nice about the way Kris fits against him, even better when, after a few more minutes, Kris rolls over and buries his nose in Adam's neck, fingers still in Adam's hair. As far as Adam's concerned, Kris can keep doing that pretty much for eternity, but when Kris stops to trail his hand down Adam's chest and further, closing strong, hot fingers around Adam's cock... oh, yeah, that's definitely worth him stopping the hair petting thing. Better if that hand was moving, but...

Kris lifts his head, pushes his shoulders back, and looks up at Adam with a look so close to comical surprise that Adam nearly laughs at it. Nearly. "God_damn_, Adam," is all he says, but it's more than enough.

"That's why we're working up to it, baby," he tells Kris, and kisses him, light, close-mouthed. Something Kris apparently isn't satisfied with, because that's when Adam gets a reminder that Kris has two hands, and he's coordinated enough to hold Adam's cock _and_ get fingers into Adam's hair at the same time, pulling him closer for another kiss. Deeper, Kris' tongue curling deep into Adam's mouth, soft sound of discovery from Kris and a groan from Adam that Kris isn't flinching from the taste of himself. It's more than Adam expected, and it's hot as hell. (It's also totally the wrong time to be thinking that he should thank Katy for that.)

Adam curls his fingers, nails against Kris' back, and sighs into the kiss, hips pressing forwards in silent and very blatant encouragement for Kris to do more. He _could_ say something, but he'd rather keep kissing Kris, and Kris is pretty damn fast to pick up on the hint anyway, hand sliding unevenly over Adam's cock, unsteady heat and friction that's probably not meant to be a tease but sure as shit feels like one, enough to know that contact is Kris' hand and Kris' will, but nowhere near enough to get him closer to release.

Probably not meant to be a tease. Adam's learning all kinds of things about Kris, though, and pulls back from the kiss to meet Kris' eyes. Okay, right, _not_ meant to be a tease. This time. "Want me to show you?" he asks softly, and watches the way Kris' teeth slide over his lower lip before Kris blinks, just once, and nods, hand falling away, and that wasn't part of the plan.

Adam catches Kris' hand, guides it back, and closes Kris' fingers around his shaft again, his own hand staying in place over the top. Not about to let that escape again without some sign of resistance, and he's not getting any hint of resistance from Kris right now. "Like this," he murmurs, and starts guiding Kris' hand. Slow movements, mostly to let Kris get used to the idea, but also because his cock's so fucking hard that Adam knows he's not going to last long, and he's making the most of it while he can.

"Like this?" Kris echoes, and Adam loosens his grip slightly, lets Kris take the lead. Kris isn't as sure as he is, which is fair enough, Adam's had fifteen years to figure out what feels good when he's got his hand on his dick, and Kris has had about three minutes. Kris learns fast, though, and he's taking the pace faster, adding a faint twist every two... three... fuck, Adam's not even trying to keep count any more, and it's the slide of Kris' thumb over the head of his cock that's Adam's undoing, spilling him into coming with a groan and a shudder, hot rush over his hand and Kris' together.

The next few minutes are kind of a blur, but a good blur, and the next thing he's absolutely aware of, Kris is curled up against him, the stickiness is gone, and the blanket's there. There's not a damn thing left to do except kiss Kris, wrap around him, and drift into sleep. He's got just about enough energy to tell Kris "I'm keeping you" before contented darkness takes him.

~~~

The next morning (just about before midday, so it is still morning) Adam makes sure to take five minutes to call a florist and send Katy the largest bouquet of roses and baby's breath that he can get them to agree to. The card simply says:

_Katy,_

still not talking about it.

Thanks,  
AL x

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from the Delays song "Love Made Visible":
> 
> I found you in summer  
> When you were undercover  
> Not hiding, just shadowed  
> But burning brightly now
> 
> Love made visible  
> Your skin feels incredible  
> Wrote your name in graffiti on the wall  
> Love made visible  
> The waves are unbreakable  
> Wrote your name, but all my words are gone
> 
> Thanks to matsujo9 and petit_rhino for being amazing betas, and to becky_h for reassuring me at 10k words that it didn't suck and I could finish it. And HUGE thanks to sorchasilver for her generous donation to Medicins Sans Frontieres for Help Haiti over on LiveJournal.


End file.
